Normal meets a madman.

Normal.

I had this theory I went through with all summer: if I could be perfectly, ideally, totally normal for the first day of my senior year, which was today, then I could do it for the first week, which was only Wednesday through Friday. And if I could be normal for that first short week, I could do it for the next long week. After that it would just come to me naturally.
As long as I could remember, nobody ever got their ticket after about Halloween, unless they spazattacked in class.
7:15, my alarm goes off, and my eyes opened on the sun smearing across the yellow roughcoat of my ceiling. Get up and be normal. Just for today. I got that idea from my dad back when he was alive -"one day at a time." Just this summer I found out it wasn't his idea, he got it from AA. Anyway, his or not, it was my theory, which was now my plan, and I was going to stick to it. For dad, everything that stuck, stuck to everything like a coat of paint.
Thinking about dad was a bad way to start my day, because it could me blow acting like normal all to hell, and like always nobody would understand, since he'd been dead for almost four years- four years exactly on November 4th. Don't think about that. I shoved the whole thought away like I shoved away a cat that jumped onto the table and headed straight for my bowl of Lucky Charms. Since Mum was still passed out, I didnt care about being gentle with those nasty hairy fuckers: I just pushed it off the table.
No matter what they say, they don't always land on their four feet. Molly flopped onto her back, and came up snarling. "You're supposed to be graceful, asshole," I said, but the cat had already ran off to the living room. I finished my bowl of cereal, dumped the milk down the sink to keep it away from the cats, and rinsed the bowl. If I would have left it out they would have fought over it, they fight over any food that was left out, even if it was only something to lick at.
I spritzed my pits, splashed my hair, combed it out, and checked myself in the mirror. T-shirt: red and gray, not white like a farm boy. mJeans: faded, and folded at the bottom. Vans, low tops, dirty but not too dirty. Look nice without looking like I had made myself look nice. Normal Normal Normal.
I was probably worrying way too much. Nobody normal was always trying to figure out the rules to be normal. I was alone here trying to figure out normal. I shut the door to my room good and tighy: I had my time planned kind of tight for that evening and didn't want unexpected cat messes in my room. I had the one room in the house where you didn't need an ax to cut through the cat stench, and I was gonna keep it that way. As long as Mom didn't open the door and forget to close it, I was catproof for the day.
Mom had come downstairs while I was getting my money for the day, and money for diner, She must had stepped in a cats mess because all I heard was her running to the bathroom yelling ," Ucky Ucky!!" She was still yelling it as I walked out the door. I was not in the mood to talk to my hung over mom, the one who pretending to care but couldn't give two shits about me. On my way out I ran into richard, her boyfriend. I cringe at the smell of him, god did he even think about taking a shower? I shook my head and headed up to my normal bus stop. Some fresh men kids were all chatting, talking about how good high-school was going to be. Of course yours would be perfect,, your not going to be labeled crazy. I watched as another boy walked up, Paul, god it felt good to see someone I knew. Paul had been my best friend since 3rd grade. HIM, just like me, was in the therapy group. He had it rough, I mean rough. His father had been best friends with my dad, but he wasn't like my dad. My dad was loyal and true. Paul's dad was a cheating, lying bastard. After Paul's mom came home to find her husband cheating, he jumped in front of a bus. Ouch. That was how Paul got his ticket, he didn't act out in school they just forced it onto him. Maybe that was good.
I got my ticket in the fourth gradee, because my Teacher had been reading us a story out loud. Stories get me. I was one of those kids that has to know how a move comes out before I could see it. I couldn't handle suspense, not even a little. And if I did know how it came out, and it wasn't happy, that was even worse.
Mrs. Dagget was reading us "The Steadfast Tin Soldier," the part right before the end when the paper doll blows up into the fire. I started to cry because I knew we were coming up on the part where they would find the tin heart in the ashes, and just knowing that was too much for me.
When these attacks happened at home, Mom or Dad would just go out to the kitchen and fix themselves a drink and wait till I'd stop. Then if they remembered or care, they'd come back out and finish the story. No big deal. But this was Mrs. Dagget not Mom or Dda, she didn't know me, and she was one of those pushy people that just have to try and help, so she put her arm around me.
That got me crying so hard that I couldn't breathe, let alone explain. So I was making these little hiccup noises and my face got all purple. The nurse came down.
That was that, I got my ticket. The next week and for the next few years I was excused from class and started going to Paul to group therapy.
I got onto the bus, sat with Paul and for once enjoyed the silent bus ridde. I got off the bus and of course, moms friend, the bus driver, touched my arm softly," Have a great year kiddo," her voice was soft. I pulled away from her touch," thanks but I have different plans." I was off to my normal year. Normal.